Silent, First Evening - The Concert

Two Years Earlier, Gavin

Philippa and I shared a taxi with Dawn and one of the other guys, Dawn quiet during the ride, giving the impression that she knew about the drinking binge in my room. Whatever. In the car park, we paid a quarter of the fair each, got out and walked along the promenade to the Grand Theatre, passing a group of hoodies gathered by the railings with cigarettes and cans of cider. They stared as we passed, giggled. The walkway was slippery, the sky a gigantic bruise, all purple, black, yellow and storm-like. Waves rolled in the background. The wind was strong, especially for August, with that stomach-churning diesel smell.

At the Grand Theatre, the girl from earlier Veronica served free wine on trays in the reception area. After a couple of glasses of wine each, Philippa and I sneaked in at the back of the auditorium, hiding in the alcove area, giggly from the wine. I couldn't see much from my position at the back of the theatre. Dust kept settling, irritating my throat, and I had to stifle the urge to cough. Really weird feeling  like I'd been here before with a beautiful girl dressed all in black, hiding in the dark, trying not to giggle or cough.  The former Mayor Arthur Harlesden making speeches and telling jokes. The audience laughing.  A big blur of steep steps and curtains and semi-darkness as the aristocratic Brendon Harlesden pounded his way through a piano recital on the stage far below, playing the famous Chopin Ballade in G minor that I used to perform in my early teens.  

Suddenly, Agnes Harlesden stepped on stage, appearing out of nowhere, judging from the stunned silence in the rest of the auditorium.  Scary, because I couldn't see her from my position in the dark. I just sensed the tense surprise.  

A crescendo of applause and cheers. I tiptoed over to the main area to get a better look of Agnes. A tall woman with a walking stick, regal, hair piled up in a bun. She walked over to the concert grand piano in her long evening dress, supported by her cane. After taking a bow, she finished the concert with the Heroic Polonaise by Chopin, leaving the audience on their feet in a standing ovation afterwards, cheering and whistling and demanding more.  Wild.  A seriously ill woman playing like that.

Philippa had joined me at the top of the steps now. The cameras were going crazy. Next to me, some guy with long hair on Sound or Tech kept updating his Facebook page. Everyone shouting and clapping, apart from Philippa who stood there, stony-faced, silent. The atmosphere electric. The music alive.

I wanted to go further in with the rest of the audience.  To scream and shout and whistle along with the others. We all belonged. Yeah, yeah, yeah, like a big family, etc, etc.  Just like in the ancient pop song about family.  Yeah, and I got that mad feeling as well. You know the one?  The type that everyone is supposed to get at these sorts of events. Like life's totally perfect and you'd be happy to die there and then.